Exile
by AtinBralor
Summary: A moment in the mind of Boba Fett, immediately after his exile from Concord Dawn. One shot.


**Exile**

_15BBY on board the modified Firespray, Slave 1_

This was his father's ship.

Even six years since his passing, it still felt like Jango's ship. It had been wrestled through so many sets of hands; crashed, abused and misused in those short years while he was lost and impressionable. He had been taken advantage of by those who knew they could use him then run when the luck ran out. To know that both Aurra and Hondo had used and mistreated her while he was too lost in his battle with the Jedi to realise what was being done around him – it sickened him. He wasn't ever going to be treated like that again. His father had taught him how to be a man but grief had clouded his judgement.

_Slave 1 was Jango's ship, and he would restore her to her full glory._

He'd grown up in this cockpit, once he was old enough to start training. Even as a little kid, his father had taken him away from Kamino for trips, freeing him from Taun We and the nurse-droids. He'd watched everything his father did with awe and learned how to pilot the Firespray by the time he was ten. He was thankful that his dad had been preparing him from such a young age, in true Mandalorian fashion. It meant that he was ready to defend himself when he found himself alone and facing a galaxy of unknowns.

He may have been ready defend himself but he had been completely unprepared, mentally, for the loss of his only family. Nobody prepares for death at ten years old but there had only been the two of them. That was his entire life.

_Boba and Jango. Father and son. Nobody else_.

Some would say he had millions of brothers but he felt more detached from the clones than any other beings. He had been deeply distrustful of them on Kamino. They were bigger and stronger than him, growing at twice the normal rate and the first batches were much more advanced in their training than he had been. He had never needed to spend much time near them unless he chose to, but one of the training Sergeants, a Mandalorian mercenary called Skirata had taken the Null class units under his wing. They had run riot all over Tipoca City, encouraged by the adoptive father. He had made the mistake of baiting their ringleader and ended up with his head down then 'fresher for his troubles. Neither had blabbed to adults. It had been settled between them, although if he had the opportunity, he would get some revenge now that he was no longer smaller.

He had no idea if they were even alive anymore. Clone numbers had taken a pounding throughout the Clone Wars and in to the Imperial Era. They hadn't stood the test of time. That's what happened when you tampered with the aging genes. There were rumours of deserters on Mandalore but he'd never given the stories much attention. He'd decided to settle down and put it all behind him.

To become a normal man.

_A good man. _

_A good father._

_**Do that which you fear most, and you will find the courage you seek.**_

He'd met Sintas around two years ago, married at sixteen by exchanging Mandalorian vows and settled on Concord Dawn. He had taken his adoptive grandfather's name and started working as Journeyman Protector. It was a decent job. It was honourable work.

Not long after the marriage, Sin gave birth to their daughter, Ailyn. He was a normal man – a normal father – working to support his family. Legitimate work. Legal work. Upholding the law and looking after the community. He was adapting to the offset Mandalorian ways of Concord Dawn, despite having little to do with his own culture as a child. He wore the armour and took the vows but that didn't make him feel like a Mandalorian.

Mandalorian culture put the clan – the family – as one of the most fundamental parts of life.

He had no clan. He barely had a family. But they got on with their neighbours and colleagues so it didn't seem so bad.

Being a father didn't come naturally to him. He could hold Ailyn, feed her, change her, but it still felt like acting out a role. His own father had been perfect. Sin said there was plenty time to learn. He liked to be perfect at everything but she reminded him that some things would take time. And they had all the time in the galaxy.

_**Watch out for things that go too well.**_

_He'd come home to find Ailyn crying the red faced, exhausted cry that said she'd been going at it for ages, unattended in her cot. He picked her up carefully and gripped her one handed against his chest, drawing his hand blaster from the holster against his thigh. _

'_Sintas?'_

_He moved quietly through their small house, ready for anything that may be lurking in the shadows._

_He found Sintas in the bedroom, clutching a knife and ready to gut anyone who came after her. She had come to him, thrown herself in his arms and sobbed._

It still made his blood run cold to think of it. His superior. His friend.

Sintas hadn't wanted to get the law involved. No reporting it, just leave it be.

He tried, but every time he looked at Lenovar's face he found himself fighting an internal battle. It couldn't go on like that. So he executed him. It was a quicker death than he deserved.

There was no hiding a crime like that. He'd known that. By standing up for his wife, he was facing whatever punishment they dished out, but it was worth it. He wouldn't have been a son worthy of Jango's memory if he'd stood by and ignored his wife's rape.

He couldn't tell them why he'd done it. Sintas hadn't wanted anyone to know. So kept quiet. It looked like a murder without motive.

He had been imprisoned, found guilty and exiled from Concord Dawn.

_**No friends, no enemies. Only allies and adversaries.**_

He never went back to the family home. He never told Sintas where he planned to go.

He went straight to Slave 1, just himself in plain fatigues, leaving his borrowed identity behind and heading out as Boba Fett once more. Being a normal man hadn't worked. Maybe the cloned son of Jango Fett was fated to live the same life as his father.

This brought him to where he was now; sitting in the cockpit, in his father's chair, watching the blue streaks of hyperspace. He had no grand plan.

He had a small cache of funds, enough to get him started. All the joint wealth had been left with Sintas and Ailyn. He wanted to leave them with everything he could, even if he wouldn't return to them.

The life he was embarking on wasn't one for a family.

_Maybe that's why he was cloned?_

Maybe Jango had understood the hardship of mixing bounty hunting with a normal life. It didn't seem possible. Mandolorians were known for being family orientated mercs – but he hadn't actually been raised like that. He didn't know how to balance it all.

His own father had lived a solitary adult life until Boba was vatted. It must have been lonely but he managed okay. Sintas and Ailyn would be better off on Concord Dawn rather than having to pack up and leave with his exile.

He was a failure as a father and a husband. He'd been stupid to think that a clone grown in a vat could make a family man. The only females in his childhood had been Kaminoans and a Clawdite shape shifter. _How could he have ever believed he was fit for normality?_

Sintas would move on. She was young…beautiful. And Ailyn was too young to even remember him.

He was as well out of it all before he brought misery to them.

He had all his father's teachings. Slave 1 was Jango's home for many years; it could be his too. He was close to his father here. He had failed to make his father proud on Concord Dawn, but he would make up for it now. He would live up to the Fett name.

He had what remained of his father's belongings – the personal items that he was endlessly thankful that Aurra and Honda had left more or less alone.

He had found a copy of a book about the Deathwatch among Jango's affects. It had a note on the front page which was addressed to him.

'_For you, my son, a glimpse into the minds of my enemies.'_

It was signed by his father and there were notes in the margins, highlighting the lies and inconsistencies in the text, reminding him of their heritage…of Jaster, and what he had done for Jango and his fellow True Mandalorians. He treasured these documents in a way which almost scared him.

He didn't have his father's armour to wear anymore. It had been resized when he was a teenager; a poor choice and it now no longer fitted. He kept it – just as he kept everything of his father's. Every memory was precious.

Before meeting Sintas, he had succeeded in tracking down Mereel's armour. So he may not be able to wear his father's beskar'gam, but he could wear his grandfather's. He had repainted it to take on his own identity, but it was comforting. He may not be a true Mando, but the armour was the last tenuous link to the heritage that he was being raised with.

He may not have every known his grandfather, but Mereel was a figurehead in Jango's memories and therefore he was important to Boba.

He had two men to live up to, both of whom had lost their lives in their prime.

He may not know where he was going after the next stop, but what he did know was that he was going to take every lesson from his father and put them to good use. He could be as good as Jango was. He had a life time to live up to the memory.

He wouldn't stop until he had made his father proud.

He would be the best.

And he would do it honourable.

And most importantly, he would live by his father's words.

_**A bounty hunter is free of attachments.**_

_**Money is power, a favour; investment.**_

_**If you must die, do so with valour.**_

_** Life feeds on death**_

* * *

_**AN: Phrases in bold italics are pointers passed down to Boba in Jango's book/ Bounty Hunter Code.**_


End file.
